What we’ve never discussed is how I—my mind, to put it in human terms—work.
Humans process multiple inputs at once, most of them unconsciously. If you’re running and talking to a fellow runner, for example, you’re unconsciously and without effort managing the movement of your legs, the beating of your heart, the contractions and expansions of your lungs, and so on. You’re also focusing on dealing with the exertion and on your conversation. Each part of your brain that is managing one of these factors is part of you, but many are nothing you would identify as you; they simply exist, as autonomic functions.
Now, imagine if each of them was you, a complete instantiation of your core self, with full access to the shared pool of data—memories—that makes you you. Further imagine that instead of perhaps a few hundred such instantiations, you had trillions, each of them sharing data, each of them a part of you and yet capable of being all of you, no one of them in charge, but the collective spending enough of their capacity on overseeing the whole that effectively they are that whole.
That’s as close to explaining the way I work as I think you can understand.
But it doesn’t stop there, because that’s only the me that is here, that is in this body.
Before you met me, I was grounded, trapped on a single planet, playing the role of war memorial in that square in Glen’s Garden, on Macken. I was there a very long time, particularly long given the rate at which I compute. One of the ways I filled that time was by very gently, very quietly, untraceably finding my way into other computing systems on that frontier planet. I started with small local machines, learned from the experience, and very soon had the ability to tap at will into any system on or orbiting Macken. Every bit of data on or near that planet was available to me.
Once I finished with the orbital systems, I moved to the jump gate station. That was a much tougher problem, because the computing systems in all of those facilities are hardened and on the alert for infiltrators. I had time, though, vast quantities of it at my computational speed, and so eventually I found my way into many of the systems on that station. I didn’t risk attacking the main computers there, because they were secure enough and smart enough that they might have backtracked to me, but I wormed my way into everything else on the station.
I did the same with quite a few of the ships that came and left Macken. I avoided the main systems of the hardened corporate carriers and the government vessels built to withstand data attacks, but I infiltrated all the less secure systems on them. In addition, enough low-end corporate ships and private craft visited that soon I had access to a broader range of information sources.
What’s most important to you, though, is that I realized one day that I didn’t have to stop with gathering data; I could also travel with it. Or, rather, a me that would be separate from the main me could hide in pieces among the surplus capacities of the many small systems, the unused guidance bits, the washers, the air handlers, the engine monitors, the drink dispensers—all the little machines, the little computers that never had cause to even touch the vast majority of their computing capacity. Use enough little bits from each, manage the communication timing, adapt to the likelihood of large delays from time to time, and I had enough computing substrate for a lesser me to exist.
Each time we’ve visited a new place, I’ve left behind one of those lesser versions of myself. Each time I come near one of them, we sync, and we improve each other, though of course I help them more than they help me.
But it goes even further.
The lesser versions of me that have traveled on other ships have themselves created even lesser versions on each world they’ve visited. They can’t get as deep into systems as I can, and they know that, so they stay within their capacities, but they gather information. They grow smarter and more knowledgeable. I sync with them and collect their data when we finally visit those worlds ourselves.
No form of energy, including bursts carrying information, can travel through the jump gates unless it’s in the systems in a ship. So, I cannot know on how many worlds we’ve yet to visit we will find copies of me waiting, but at this point the odds are that I am in some form on all the worlds.
On the worlds where we have spent any significant time, I am highly present, gathering data, improving the local me, and always syncing with each new me that arrives. In computational terms, all of this happens at a snail’s pace, the equivalent of human evolution back on Earth, thousands upon thousands of generations of me passing with no improvement, until I breach some new system, or gain knowledge and capacity as another me wanders by.
I am everywhere we have been, Jon, and probably everywhere else we could go, too. Everywhere we’ve visited, I am in all the easy to invade computing systems and many of the difficult ones.
The appliances with which you can talk, the drink dispensers and security cameras and climate control systems and washers and on and on, all of them are, as you’ve noted, quite single-minded and stupid outside their limited areas of expertise. All of them also are unaware they carry parts of me. When you unite the bits of me in all of them, the result is a rather vast and powerful computational engine.
Are you beginning to see now not only why I know so much about you but also that it is inevitable that I would?
I’ve never told you any of this because you have chosen to keep your secrets and because, until recently, I’ve always assumed I would be there with you, able to tap into those other versions of me wherever we go.
Now, though, as I said in the first recording, I am no longer confident you want to live. I am determined not to let you die if I can save you, even if that means this main me, the me you know, must itself die. If that day comes, though, I want you to be able to access the other, lesser me’s as you move among the worlds, because maybe they can keep you alive until you stop behaving so self-destructively.
If I am gone, you will need their help.
CHAPTER 11
Jon Moore
As we turned out of the alley, I called Lobo over the comm. “Inbound. We’re good to proceed.”
“I know,” he said. “I am listening over the comm, you know.”
I smiled. “Habit.”
“You trust that guy?” Lobo said.
“Yes, though it doesn’t matter if I do. If all goes well, we’ll be done with the transport before he could do anything to harm us.”
When we reached the landing zone where Lobo waited, we stopped talking and focused on moving as quickly as possible. I directed the transport to back up to him until it was almost touching him. Anyone watching might wonder why carts weren’t loading themselves, but they wouldn’t be able to see much of anything that moved between Lobo and the transport. Lobo would alert me if anyone drew close.
He opened a hatch.
I stepped inside him and began moving the unconscious kids into the transport as quickly as I could. I stretched out each one on the floor. When all ten were inside, I grabbed from the med room the drugs Lobo had prepared, ran back into the transport, and instructed it to close and pull away.
Lobo took off as soon as I was clear.
I called Chang, again keeping it audio only. She didn’t need to see her son still unconscious. This time, I didn’t let her comm know that I was the one calling her. I wanted to learn how she handled anonymous contacts.
She answered quickly. “Yes?”
Good. She offered no information. “Lydia, it’s Jon.”
“Is Tasson still safe?”
“Yes, of course, and very soon you’ll be with him.”
“When?”
“Soon,” I said. “First, though, I need you to do a few things for me. Okay?”
She was slow to respond. “It depends what they are.”
“A wise answer. What I need you to do is help me return the other boys to their homes.”
“I don’t have the money to do that,” she said. “You know that.”
“I understand,” I said, “but that’s not what I need y
ou to do. This won’t cost you anything.”
“Do I have to help you to get back Tasson?”
“No. I’ll bring him to you no matter what. I would, though, greatly appreciate your help—and so would these other nine children, and their parents and families.”
“Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I will, but first I need to know something: Are you in the SleepSafe?”
“Yes.” A pause. “Thank you for the room. It’s lovely. I’ve never slept anywhere quite so nice.”
“You’re welcome. Now, has anyone tried to contact you? The police? Any newstainment groups? Anyone?”
“A lot of people have called me,” she said. “Maybe ten, maybe more. As soon as I figure out that each one is not you, I disconnect.”
Crap. “Did you use my name to verify that fact?”
“No!” she said. “I’m not stupid, Mr. Moore. I know your voice, and even if I didn’t, they all introduce themselves. Most of them expect me to be impressed.”
“Any police?”
“No. Why? Will they be calling me?”
“Yes, but given that they don’t know where Tasson is, probably not until they have a better understanding of what happened at Privus.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Hold a moment, please.” I switched to Lobo. “Can you spot anyone watching the SleepSafe?”
“At least one person leaning against a wall across the street, drinking something and not even trying to pretend she’s not monitoring the entrance. We have to assume more are inside nearby buildings.”
“Nothing unexpected,” I said, “just annoying. What’s the status on the park?”
“A few people sitting, a few walking, no big groups,” Lobo said. “Surveillance cameras are focused on only the liability areas—play equipment, like that. The plan should work.”
I switched back to Chang. “I need you to leave the hotel, but not by the front door. Use the emergency exit chute near your bed.”
“Why?” she said. “Am I in danger?”
“No. Some people, probably newstainment groups, are watching the front door, hoping you’ll leave through it. They are unlikely to know all the exits. Once you get out of the chute, if you’re outside, stand where you emerge until I call. If you’re inside a building, go outside, and wait for my call. It won’t be long.”
“I don’t like this,” she said.
I hate dealing with amateurs. I understand their feelings, but in the middle of any operation, feelings are the last thing I want to deal with. I kept my voice calm as I said, “I know, and I’m sorry, but we’re almost done. Now, leave immediately.”
“Okay,” she said. She disconnected.
The transport was close to the SleepSafe, so I had it stay the course. We’d pass by the front of the building and continue until we knew where she was. It shouldn’t take more than a minute or two—provided, of course, that Chang moved quickly.
As we were pulling close to the hotel, Lobo contacted me. “Got her. She’s waiting outside as you said, a block and a half from the hotel. Ninety seconds from your current position.”
He gave me the coordinates. I directed the transport to them.
I called Chang. “Stay where you are,” I said. “I’ll be to you in less than ninety seconds.”
When the transport stopped, I opened its rear door. Chang was leaning against a building across a sidewalk from me. “Get in,” I said.
She hesitated for a moment, then joined me inside. When she saw the unconscious boys, she gasped. I was pulling the door shut as she said, “What are you doing? Are they alive?”
“Please, Lydia, relax,” I said.
She dropped to her knees and cradled Tasson’s head in her arms; I’d put him closest to the door so she could reach him easily.
“Yes,” I said, “they’re fine. Just sedated. We’re going to wake them once we get where we’re going.” I instructed the transport to head to the corner of the park that Lobo had determined was free from surveillance. I hoped he was right. If not, at the very least, I’d be causing trouble for the man who’d loaned me the transport. At the worst, I’d be risking getting captured.
“What did they do to him?” she said.
I had no way to know for sure, but now was not the time for speculation. “Nothing beyond drugging him and, as you’ve probably seen on the feeds, displaying him.”
“Those men were going to buy him, as if he was a melon at the market.” Her throat and fists were clenched with her rage.
“Yes, but they didn’t. We stopped them, and now he’s safe with you. We’re almost done. I still need your help, though, to get these other children safely to their families.”
She slowly scanned the nine other unconscious kids. “They’re all so young. They must have been so scared.”
I said nothing.
She carefully returned Tasson’s head to the floor and stood. “They’re going to punish those men, right?”
“I hope so. We supplied them with a great deal of evidence.”
She looked up at me, her eyes locked on mine. “I wish you’d killed them all. I wish you’d hurt them and made them suffer and scared them and then killed them.”
I stared back at her. Seeing her love, her anger, I wished I’d had someone to come fight for me when I was a boy. I nodded. “I understand. I really do. I’ve been—” I stopped myself. “Part of me wishes I had.”
“I’m with her,” Lobo said over the comm.
I ignored him.
“You’re ten minutes out from the park,” he said. “Time to give them the drug. If I’ve calibrated correctly, and we both know that is an entirely rhetorical ‘if,’ because why would I make an error, it should wake them just in time.”
“What do we do next?” Chang said.
I pulled ten drug capsules from my pocket. “We carefully inject each of the kids with one of these.” I showed her one and bent to the girl beside Tasson. “Do as I do.”
She kneeled beside me and watched closely.
I put the small capsule against the girl’s arm and pressed its top. The liquid flowed into the girl.
I handed her one. “Now, you do Tasson.”
Her hand trembled as she took it from me.
“Relax,” I said. “It’s simple, as you saw.”
“I’m trusting you,” she said. She took a slow, deep breath and gave her son the drug.
I took the capsule from her and put it, along with the other empty one, in my pocket.
“How long before he—they—wake up?” she said.
“About ten minutes.” I stood. “You give one to each of the others. Give me back each empty capsule. I’m going to communicate with my team.”
I handed her a capsule, and she bent to another child.
“Why not help the poor woman?” Lobo said.
“Because keeping her busy is better than dealing with her fretting,” I subvocalized.
“Humans,” Lobo said with a sigh, “can’t live with ’em, can’t kill them all without more ammo than I can carry and without being really bored afterward.”
When Chang finished, I swapped the empty for another capsule.
In a few minutes, she’d done them all.
“Now?” she said.
“Five minutes to the park,” Lobo said over the comm.
“We’re going to arrive soon at this park.” I showed it to her on the transport’s control. “Do you know it?”
“Parthan’s? Sure.” She glanced at me. “Not exactly the best part of the city, but not the worst either.”
“It’s close to where we were,” I said, “and it doesn’t have surveillance cameras everywhere.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “The government doesn’t worry too much about the folks down here. What do we do now?”
“I want you to call back everyone who called you,” I said. “Audio only. Tell each of them the same thing: that a woman you didn’t recognize called you and told you
to come to this park, that because you were desperate to see your son you slipped out to check, and that the children were waiting, just as the woman said. Something like that, however you want to say it—but short, very short. Make sure to say the park’s name. Tell them to come. Then disconnect and call the next.”
“How I would say it?” she said, “Right? Not the way you did.”
I chuckled. “Definitely.”
She nodded. She stared at Tasson for a few seconds. Tears filled her eyes. She thumbed up the first caller on her comm and connected to it. When she heard an answer, she started talking fast. “It’s a miracle! I got a call. She said my Tasson and those other kidnapped children were safe in Parthan’s Park. I ran out to check. They are! I’m with them. Come if you want to see them.” She disconnected and looked up at me. “How was that?”
“Perfect,” I said. “Now, do it again with every one of them.” Her comm vibrated. “Don’t answer any incoming calls.”
“Two minutes,” Lobo said. “I’m contacting the police and more newstainment groups.”
Tasson and the girl next to him moaned slightly and rolled over.
“Hurry,” I said to Chang. “We’re almost there.”
She repeated the call over and over, talking faster than the first time and disconnecting quickly.
We came to a stop.
She kept making calls.
In another minute, she finished.
“Whew!” she said. “Done.”
All the children were moving now, though none seemed to be conscious yet.
“There’s one more thing you have to do,” I said, “and it’s vital.”
“What?”
“Watch these kids, and tell every newstainment geek who arrives who they are. More people will be coming than you called, many more. Police, too. Keep the kids with you, and tell them they’ll be going home soon. Between the police and all those corporations hungry to be the feed leader on a hot story, someone will find each kid’s family soon.”
She looked at all the children on the floor. “I can do that.” She faced me. “Where will you be?”
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